


Parentheticals

by onceandfuturekiki



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Episode: s06e13 Emotional Consequences of Broadcast Television, F/M, post ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4254498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceandfuturekiki/pseuds/onceandfuturekiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She goes home with him (the she being Annie and the him being Jeff).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parentheticals

She goes home with him (the she being Annie and the him being Jeff).

For six-years-ago-Jeff a woman coming home with him would mean a one night stand of mediocre sex (he can be completely honest about that now. And the part more-evolved-Jeff-who-can-recognize-his-emotions and the part filled-with-self-loathing-Jeff-who-is-so-insecure that combine to make him the person he is now, and has been for the past few months can be honest about the fact that, more often than not, the fact that the sex was only mediocre was usually on him). But for evolved-Jeff-who-was-honest-about-his-feelings-with-Annie, it means cautious discussions and trying not to hope too hard (that’s one thing that more-evolved-Jeff has had trouble integrating into his new self: hope. But now, after emotional confessions and a kiss that was so simple but so amazing and possibly the most earth-shattering moment of his entire life, he’s trying desperately to shove down this surprising swell of hope).

He pours himself a drink with his back turned to her (his hands are shaking and he’s embarrassed by that. Fear and nerves aren’t supposed to be a part of Jeff Winger, even more-evolved-Jeff-Winger, and he’s worried that seeing how scared he is might have an impact on whatever Annie says or decided tonight). Annie, for her part, sits on the couch (he can feel her eyes on his back, and he knows her well enough to know that she’s sitting ramrod straight, with her hands folded tightly in her lap. At least, he _hope_ he knows her well enough to know that, because he’s comforted by the idea that he’s not the only nervous one in this situation.)

Just as Jeff is ready to turn around and say _something_ (he has no idea what that something is going to be, but he has the distinct feeling that if they don’t start talking soon, this thing is going to crash and burn before it even starts), Annie takes the lead instead, saying, “I’m not leaving forever, you know. I’m only leaving for the summer. I’ll be back before the next semester starts.”

He’s quiet for a long moment (he’s both letting her words sink in and remembering her words from earlier in the night) before he adds his thoughts to the conversation. “You said that you’d maybe come back. You said you didn’t know if you’d come back,” he reminded her quietly.

“I didn’t-“ she starts and stops again (not something common for Annie, and every unexpected thing she does right now makes him even more scared and nervous than he already was before), sighing and looking down at her hands. “I had just found out that I got the internship. It hadn’t sunk in yet. And… a lot has happened in the two hours and twenty-five minutes since it happened.” (And there it is. The thing he’s both been hoping for and fearing in equal measure.)

His drink gets tossed back quickly in one large gulp (he’s still trying to get used to cheaper Scotch because, unfortunately, more-evolved-Jeff is also has-completely-run-out-of-everything-he-had-saved-and-is-now-being-paid-as-little-as-legally-possible-Jeff) and finally goes to sit Annie. She looks over at him, her eyes wide and slightly glassy, like she might cry (those eyes have always been his weakness. They were one of the first things that made him care about _anything_ in a completely selfless way. Even when he was still very much six-years-ago-Jeff, who was also terrible-selfish-Jeff-who-used-people-for-his-own-gain, so he probably should have known then that he was in trouble.) “Please don’t take what I said and make it a part of whatever you decide to do. Please don’t do that.”

Her brow furrows (her confused face has always been pretty high on his list of When is Annie the Most Adorable. He also has a list for When is Annie the Most Hot and When is Annie the Most Beautiful) and she bites her lip for a moment. “I don’t understand. Did you… did you not mean it?”

“No!” Jeff exclaims (a part of his brain is telling him that maybe he should have said yes, maybe if he says he didn’t mean it, that he said it in the heat of the moment, that she would go and do what she’s destined to do and she won’t be held back by him. But another part of his brain reminds him where six years of that has gotten him). “I meant every word I said. I just don’t want to hold you back.”

“Jeff-“

“I love you, Annie,” he says, looking into her eyes to make sure she can see how honest he’s being (Annie has always been the best at seeing through his bullshit). He sees the way her eyes grow wider and glassier, and begins to worry that he’s said the wrong thing (it absolutely would not be the first time where Annie’s concerned. For someone who lived so long on saying the exactly right thing at the right time, the amount of downright wrong things he’s said to Annie at the wrong time is staggering). “I love you and I can’t stand the thought of you not going out into the world and following your dreams. I can’t stand the idea of holding you back.”

Annie blinks, a tear falling down her cheek, and Jeff thinks that he has indeed said absolutely the wrong thing (perhaps the most wrong thing he’s ever said to her). But then she takes his hand, threading their fingers together, and brings her other hand to his face, stroking his cheek gently as she moves closer to him. Before Jeff can register what’s actually happening (as always, she takes him off guard), she’s pressing her lips to his putting so much into what’s really a chaste kiss. (Every kiss with her is the greatest kiss he’s ever experienced.) When the pull apart, she rests her forehead against his, her hand still at his cheek, her other hand gripping his tightly. “ _I_ love _you_ ,” she breathes out (he can’t believe she said it. He has to be imagining it). “And I can’t stand the idea of going out into the world and following my dreams if you’re not there with me.” (No, really, there’s no way she actually said any of that. The emotional stress he’s going through has driven him over the edge and now he’s hallucinating. Maybe she’s not even here. Maybe none of this has happened. Maybe she was never in the study room in the first place.)

Trying to ground himself back in reality, he brings his free hand up to stroke her cheek bone with the tips of his fingers, running them down to her neck and moving his thumb gently across her jaw. Then he travels down to her waist, pulling her body closer to him so that he can feel the heat coming off of her. (This is real. She’s real. It’s all very real. She loves him and it’s real and for a moment the problems they have right now, the crushing fear and terrifying hope all take a backseat to the joy he’s feeling, the joy that he’s never felt anything close to before this moment.”

“But,” Annie says (he knew it couldn’t stay so perfect forever), “I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I’d be happy if I stayed in Greendale forever, but I don’t think I’d be happy if I left without you.” (He wants to tell her that he’d never be happy without her, period. But he doesn’t want to put that on her. This is all about doing what’s best for her. Making his happiness her responsibility wouldn’t be fair.)

Jeff doesn’t know what to say (he’s always been able to fix a difficult situation through words and talking, but he’s at a complete loss here, and it makes him feel powerless in a way he hasn’t felt since he was a little kid watching his father drive away from him forever) so he kisses her again, tentatively, not wanting to make Annie think that he’s trying to distract her from the actual issue (he’s not so sure himself that he’s not doing exactly that.) She clearly doesn’t think that’s his motivation, though, as she eagerly reciprocates.

Kissing Annie gives his brain time to function enough to remember how much he loves her. How much he wants _everything_ for her, how he wants to fix everything for her, and if he can’t do that, at least make her feel better about it (Annie’s sadness is his kryptonite. When Annie hurts, he hurts. He feels the pain in his chest, in his bones, and it’s agonizing).

After several minutes they pull away. Annie still has tears in her eyes, though, and she moves her head to his shoulder, turning her face into his neck (he’s stunned that this is something that they apparently _do_ now, that this drastic shift in their relationship, a shift that happened so suddenly, feels so natural, like something they’ve always done, or at least should have always been doing). “Why do things always have to be so hard?” she whispers.

“You’re going to be gone for three months,” he starts, not entirely sure where he’s going with it (it’s probably not the best time to rely on improvisation, but he _needs_ to make her hurt less). “But you don’t know what’s going to happen after that.”

“What do you mean?”

“They could offer you a job. You could decide to go to school in DC. You could decide to go to a school closer to Greendale, you could decide to stay at Greendale and finish your forensics degree before deciding your point.” (She has so many options open to her, options that Jeff never had himself, and he’s constantly amazed how she pulled herself out of what, for most people, would have simply been the end. Fuck, he loves her).

“That terrifies me,” Annie says (terrified is not a word Jeff would ever use to describe Annie).

“Why?”

“I don’t have a plan beyond the internship. I don’t know what I’m going to do at the end of those three months. Not having a plan, not knowing exactly where I’m going… that’s scary.”

“You might not know _exactly_ what you’re going to do after the internship,” Jeff agrees. “But you do know what you want to do with your life. You have an end game. You do have a plan. You just don’t know all of the steps yet.” (More-evolved-Jeff thinks this is a better way to live. If you have a strict plan, there’s no room for surprises. If he hadn’t gone off of his strict plan, he would have never fallen in love with Annie.)

“I want you to be part of my end game,” she says timidly, burying her face further into the space where his neck meets his shoulder (a place that is now and forever reserved only for her).  

He wants to tell her that the thing he desires most in the entire world is for her to be a part of his end game, too. But that fear fills him again, the fear that if he tells her that, if he’s honest with her about every single thing he’s feeling, every single things he wants, that all he’ll do is hold her back from following her dreams and getting the rest of that end game.

“The internship is only three months,” he repeats. “And you don’t know for sure what you’re doing after you finish it.” (As much as he thinks strict plans are bad, bad things, he has to admit to himself that he’s just as terrified of that prospect as Annie is. But for very different reasons).

“What are you saying?”

“We don’t need to worry about what happens to us when we have no idea what comes next,” he explains. (He thinks he probably will, though. He’ll just do it silently.)

Annie finally raises her head to look at her, the furrow back in her brow. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” (The idea of Annie Edison not understanding something is so absurd he’d probably laugh if the situation right now wasn’t so serious).

“You still have a month before you leave. And then three months in DC. So we know where we are for at least four months. We can make this work for four months.”

“But what happens when those three months are over?”

“When that time comes, we’ll figure out what we do from there.”

“So you’re basically saying that we just cross that bridge when we come to it?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” (Jeff has been a cross-that-bridge-when-we-come-to-it guy for a long time now. But despite the confidence he’s trying to project, inside the whole idea of waiting to cross that bridge for another four months is terrifying).

He can see Annie going over the idea in her head. He can see that it’s causing her some anxiety by the way she bites her lip, worrying the middle of it with her front teeth (it doesn’t matter what they’re doing, what they’re talking about. Jeff gets very distracted when Annie brings attention to her lips). He’s scared that she’s going to say no, that crossing-that-bridge-when-we-come-to-it is just one too many things that are unplanned. And he _hopes_ , unreservedly, that she doesn’t. More than anything he doesn’t want to hold her back, but he can at least have four months with her (well, one month really with her and one three months of Skyping and Face Time).

Finally, she smiles, a bit nervously, and nod. “Okay. We cross that bridge when we come to it.” (Hope points).

* * *

 

She falls asleep on the couch, their bodies tangled together and facing each other, while he holds her close, watching her. (She, once again, being Annie and he, once again, being Jeff.)

He’s also thinking. About how he finally has what he’s wanted so badly for so long (even though he went several years without actually knowing he wanted it, or telling himself he didn’t want it, or ignoring that he wanted it), but that he might very well lose it in four months. (Will losing her in four months, letting her go so she can follow her dreams, see the world, and become something great hurt more than never having been with her at all?) Jeff has always been someone who can think of a way out of anything, but he can’t think of a way out of eventually losing Annie. There’s no scenario he can think of where her staying in Greendale with him wouldn’t be holding her back. There’s no scenario he can think of where she leaves Greendale to follow greatness where they manage to stay together. (Earlier, when she told him she loves him, he wanted to cry. Now he wants to cry for entirely different reasons.)

Running his hand up her back and over her shoulder slowly, gently, he thinks that if he’s only going to have her for such a short time that he’s going to be selfish with that time. (He’s being the exact opposite of selfish in letting her go, so he completely deserves to be selfish now). He’s going to be with her every minute of every day until she gets on that plane to Washington. He’s going to hold her close to him no matter where they are. He’s going to kiss her and touch her and _love her_ as much as he possibly can, and take every bit of love from her he can get.

His hand moves up to her face, where he pushes a strand of hair off her face before running his thumb over her cheekbone, his hand through her hair (her hair would always hold a special place in his heart. It was her hair that changed everything, when she let her hair down and he really _saw_ her for the first time).

“Jeff,” she lets out on a sigh, still mostly asleep. The sound of it seeps into his through his skin and rushes through his veins, straight to his heart, filling his entire body with a warmth that makes him feel heavy and light all at once. It’s a feeling he never wants to let go of, a sound he wants to hear forever. He wants to wake up to it and fall asleep to it and hear it every second of every day for the rest of his life, no matter where he is.

(No matter where he is.)

And that’s when it hits him.

No one is more surprised than Jeff that he actually _like_ his job at Greendale. It’s become something familiar. Something comfortable. Teaching has become something that he actually enjoys.

But it wouldn’t break him to leave it (it might make him sad for a while, but he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wouldn’t break him. Not the way losing Annie would). He’s now qualified to practice law _and_ teach.

It’s not like Greendale is the only place in the world that needs lawyers and teachers (okay, considering the high turnover rate and the amount of professors and instructors that mysteriously vanish, Greendale might need teachers _a little_ more than most places, but that’s neither here nor there).

It’s the realization that he has more opportunities, more possibility than he thought outside of Greendale that starts the idea train moving (finally). “Teacher” and “lawyer” aren’t really specific things. He really can do them literally anywhere. But what Annie wants to do, whether it’s graduate school or starting a career when she finishes Greendale, she can’t just do that anywhere. There are specific places where she’d have to be in order to follow her dream.

And he realizes that the same goes for him, too, in a way. Because his dream is Annie.

(No matter where she is.)

THE END


End file.
